only ever losing
by xIrelandx
Summary: Apollo's having a difficult time adjusting to a relationship wish someone who actually loves him. Phoenix/Apollo, past Kristoph/Apollo. TRIGGER WARNING: domestic abuse, implied rape.
1. Chapter 1

Apollo involuntarily scoots away when Phoenix sits down next to him. He doesn't really want to put distance between them, or give Phoenix the idea that he's not interested. He is interested. Very much so. It's a force of habit, something Apollo does out of fear and should probably unlearn now that he's among friends.

But still. That flinch, no matter how small and insignificant - Phoenix sees it. Sees it and raises his eyebrows and furthers the distance, even as Apollo tries to settle down. He feels a pain settle in his chest, an uneasiness in his stomach. Somewhere in his throat his heart is breaking, but he's not about to cough it up and let it show.

He still remembers how much more the words hurt than the actual wounds he'd received as a kid. He'd been forced to eat dirt more than once, choking on the small rocks ground up within it as the disgusting concoction slid down his throat and settled, like re-swallowed vomit, in his esophagus. People would be surprised to learn how meek Apollo could be in a relationship. A past therapist had put it down to bullying, but he'd had to stop going when he no longer had access to a campus psychologist. That had been before he'd met Kristoph.

He often wondered how Dr Brown would react now. That face of expected disappointment, perhaps. Apollo was always letting people down. Bullying was just a part of growing up. He'd learn to trust people some way or another, or so he'd been told. So he'd figured. Books and movies had assured him that every damsel in distress had a white knight on his way, and Apollo knew it was stupid but he kept his fingers crossed nonetheless.

Clay Terran had been one of several guys Apollo had fallen for and pined after and who had turned him down, but unlike many others, Clay wasn't afraid of Apollo's sexuality. "You're just not my type, you know?" Clay said, continuing to treat Apollo as though nothing had happened at all. He was the closest Apollo ever had to a friend. Really was a friend, but Apollo never knew how to handle acceptance. Clay stuck by him, helping him with heartbreaks and bad grades, and Apollo tried not to let on that his feelings never abated. Clay was too valuable a friend to lose over something as inconsequential as his own feelings.

All the while on the inside, Apollo was falling apart.

By the time he left college, Apollo had developed a series of rituals bordering on obsession, compulsions born of anxiety that he couldn't be bothered to get under control. Triple-locking his door before he left, stirring the tea the same number of times and in the same direction, washing his hands after entering and before leaving the apartment. He'd gone into panic when Phoenix said the tap was broken. He was fortunate enough to find an unopened bottle of antibacterial wash in the bottom drawer of Mr Wright's unused desk.

This was the first time Trucy had noticed, and she'd called his actions cute. They gave Apollo character, lent him sympathy that he might not have achieved otherwise. Phoenix given him a suspicious look, but refrained from commenting or interfering. Some part of Apollo was annoyed at how much his newfound mentor ignored him; the other part of him, the part that was terrified of the bees in his abdomen that woke up when they were together (or apart for that matter, when it was nighttime and Apollo was bored and let his thoughts wander), was relieved at this ignorance.

Phoenix touched Apollo's hand, and Apollo froze. He felt one finger tracing the outline of his pointer finger, delicately pulling it away from the others as Phoenix made their fingers link. Apollo wanted to move his thumb in circles on the back of Phoenix's hand, but he couldn't move anything. He just sat there, and thought about Kristoph.

How much did he have to feel ashamed for? Had Kristoph told Phoenix about their relationship? _That would require him to have considered it a relationship,_ a voice replied. _You and there and you were easy. And now you're here, and you're still easy._

Apollo flinched again, the spasm tightening his hand around Wright's. Phoenix mistook the meaning behind the squeeze, and repeated the action. Apollo closed his eyes, because he'd never been a good liar.

He'd never been a good anything, really. Kristoph had made him highly aware of that fact, little flakes of condescension landing on Apollo's mind and dissolving, mixing in with his heart. He'd only hit Apollo a few times, and for things he'd truly deserved. Those pieces of shrapnel hadn't dug in very deeply, blowing away with the smallest apology. Even Apollo could realize that Kristoph had taken place of a father figure and disciplinarian, that there was something deranged about their relationship. Despite the blatant psychological symbolism, and the knowledge that Kristoph was being abusive, Apollo took it all to heart. This was how he deserved to be treated.

This was what love was like. Or, rather, he could say, this was the only form of love he'd ever receive: fake, the kind he'd have to indulge with self-delusions in order to make it feel real. He could pretend Kristoph was there to protect him even when he could feel himself dying. The rush of endorphins that came after sex was enough to tide him over. It had to be enough. It was what other people survived on. The physical pain would subside with Apollo's distaste for the activity. Everything comes with a price.


	2. Chapter 2

Phoenix moved in to kiss Apollo, one hand wrapped so that his thumb was lifting Apollo's chin up, other fingers caressing the hairs at the nape of his neck. Apollo gasped: he'd been held this way before, but it hadn't been a pleasant experience. Their lips were just lightly pressed together, unmoving. Apollo's eyes fluttered open to observe his partner. It occurred to him that Phoenix was waiting for him to move, for him to take the next step.

Apollo couldn't help it, feeling tears escape his eyes.

Phoenix pushed back, frowning. "What's wrong, Polly?"

He was shaking and it was ridiculous. No one had ever let him lead before, and now he didn't know how. It meant that Phoenix actually wanted him, not just what he could offer. _Not that you offer anything_, he thought. He tried to calm himself down, tried to play through the scene in his head: Phoenix caressing his cheek, fingers tangling in his hair. Urging Apollo to angle up to meet his lips. And Apollo could do this. Apollo could meet him, could give him smaller kisses, could maybe poke at his lips with his tongue -

_Kristoph bruising my mouth with his. Kristoph forcing his tongue in my mouth. Kristoph choking me. Kristoph not preparing me. Kristoph ra-_

"Apollo!" Phoenix was shaking him. The floodgates broke open. Apollo thought he might vomit. He couldn't seem to get his mouth to close, loud sobs pushing their way out. Apollo couldn't decide what to do with his hands - cover his mouth? wipe his tears? start pulling out his hair? It had been a while since he felt his heart beat so fast. It was an out of control train he could hear pushing through his ears.

Phoenix had pulled Apollo to his chest, running one hand over his spinal column. He was playing out Apollo's name on repeat, like maybe Apollo would snap out of his fever if Phoenix said his name often enough.

_Are you sure you can do this, Justice?_ To his horror, he could hear himself screaming. Not saying anything in particular, but there was some sort of noise coming out of his mouth. He was completely disconnected from the situation. He couldn't even feel the vibrations in his chest.

_You're embarrassing me. Again._ He could hear something shattering. The windows? He'd always had this nightmare - his panic getting the better of him, collapsing as the sirens start and the dogs come for him.

_You're really very useless. I suppose I'll have to do this myself, and punish you later._ Apollo took one hand and slapped himself across the face, and the noise stopped. He wasn't sure when he managed to get away from Phoenix - or when Phoenix managed to get away from him. He took two more gasping breaths before landing a fist on his cheek.

"Apollo, stop!" Phoenix had been on the phone, but dropped it. He ran over to where Apollo was, still seated on the couch. He held Apollo's arms away, trying to save the younger from himself. "Apollo -"

_Justice!_ In his mind, he could feel Kristoph landing blows. It was a third-person memory, strictly in black and white. _You need to stand up for yourself! Will you let me hit you?_ Apollo was trying to say no to the Kristoph in his mind, but nothing came out. _You are pathetic, Justice. How do you expect me to respect you, when you can hardly respect yourself?_

"N-no - Stop -"

"Apollo, please! Tell me what you're seeing!"

_Kneel_. A hit, but where was it coming from? _I told you to kneel, Justice! Follow directions._ Another one. Sharp, like the things he told himself. "Apollo, wake up!" _Can't you do anything right?_ "Please, Apollo," the other person said. Apollo could hear tears in his voice. "I'm running out of options."

"Stop it!" Apollo shrieked. The hand that been trying to bring him back to consciousness had stilled. The Kristoph in his mind was staring back, dead eyes and fake smile hypnotizing Apollo.

"Apollo -"

"Just stop it Kristoph, please!"

The remaining hand on his wrist fell off, and Apollo was losing balance. He could feel himself wavering back and forth on the couch. "What?" Apollo's eyes were blurry with tears. The tears stung where they refused to fall. There was some sort of pinched nerve in his chest, twinging with every beat and making it hard for Apollo to breathe. "What did you just call me?"


End file.
